


The Borderlands Cup

by silveradept



Category: In Other Lands | The Turn of the Story - Sarah Rees Brennan
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 17:07:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20450594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silveradept/pseuds/silveradept
Summary: Serene taps her two best friends from the Borderguard to help her with an impossible task: Win the men's division of the Trigon Borderlands Cup for the elves. Luke is on board. Elliot wonders why he's there at all.





	The Borderlands Cup

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shadaras](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadaras/gifts).

"How _do_ we get something on over these?" Elliot said, pacing in a circle around Luke. "We could just cut holes in the back of everything, assuming you can hold your wings out straight enough to get them on."

"Elliot."

"Do your wings get cold when they're out in the rain? Do you get cold when they're wet? Should we make you covers for your wings?"

"Elliot."

"Now that I think about it, maybe we could rig up a hoodie top over a corset. With the right kind of snaps, you could just take off the top and shimmy out of the bottom."

"_Elliot._"

"Huh?" Elliot turned his head to Luke, only belatedly recognizing that Luke had long since assumed his 'I don't want to talk about this right now' pose.

"Do you ever stop talking?" Luke said.

"Not until I know everyone on the room isn't going to try and kill me on sight." Elliot grinned. "Really, though, I bet you'd look really good in a muscle shirt. We should talk to Golden's tailor the next time Serene swings by and see if he can—"

"**_Elliot_**."

"What?"

"Stop. Talking."

Elliot grinned his best troublemaker grin at Luke.

"Make me."

Luke sprang at Elliot, who realized in the split second he should have dodged that the wings meant Luke could move faster, rather than slower. He carried Elliot over to the window of their room.

"If you're going to drop Schafer, Sunborn, do it now, so I can claim I don't know what happened." Captain Woodsinger's voice floated up from the training grounds. She had earned every bit of that promotion having to lead all of those war-track students for that many years, Elliot had said loudly to anyone of higher rank within hearing. And now she returned his friendship by pretending not to notice that his boyfriend was about to drop him out a window.

"Councilor Schafer, thank you!" Elliot yelled back, proving his sense of self-preservation had apparently gone very far away from here, before returning his attention to Luke.

There were perks to actually bring part of the Borderguard, instead of just cadets. For one, when there was a new outpost being built over by the Forest of Aeries (a better name for what had been termed the Forest of Suicides, although only Elliott's maps used the name), it meant Luke and Elliot had the opportunity to volunteer for that posting before being told that Elliott's teaching style would dry up recruitment and be needed more time in the field, so he could either volunteer for the position or be fired and have to go there anyway.

Elliott had been holding out for mermaids, but at least he still had Luke.

"Luke, you love me, right?" Elliot said, trying to get free of his grip as Luke dangled him out a window of their tower, which resembled one of the Harpies' aeries. Given Luke's ancestry, Elliot had insisted that they follow the obvious choice, at least to him, about building. "There's no need for this kind of violence."

Like smiled brightly at Elliot and let go.

Elliot's scream echoed across the camp for the second or two it took for him to fall, before someone caught him and eased him gently to the ground. Looking up, Elliot saw a very familiar elven face.

"Serene!" he cried happily, trying to ignore the waves of laughter and mimicry of his scream coming from the Trigon field. "How's my favorite elf warrior?"

"I am well, thank you," said Serene-Heart-in-the-Chaos-of-Battle, Elliott's first crush, first love, first kiss, and a few other firsts. "I see that you and Luke are engaging in blissful courtship of each other again."

Elliot opened his mouth to protest, then decided Serene was close enough to the truth not to bother explaining how wrong she was.

"Wait," Elliot said. "Did Luke know you would be there?"

"Yes," Serene said.

"How?"

"If you had decided to _stop talking_ for a moment," Luke said, having thrown on a shirt that had been one of Elliot's earliest sartorial experiments, "then I would have told you that I saw Serene coming."

Elliot shrugged. "You just wanted me to stop telling you how good you look."

"That, too," Luke added. "What news, Serene?"

"I have been given a monumentous task, and I need your assistance."

"Oh?" Elliot said.

"I…have been appointed head coach of the men's Trigon team for the Borderlands Tournament. I need both of you to be my assistants."

Elliot waited, well past the point where Serene should have said she was only joking. 

"Okay, Luke makes perfect sense," Elliot said, realizing Serene was still serious. "But why me?"

"It's an honor to be asked," Luke said.

"I don't understand Trigon," Elliot said.

"You know all the rules," Luke said, confused.

"You'll be needed to make sure there are no diplomatic incidents when we win our games," Serene pointed out.

"I thought elvish men were supposed to be so dainty and delicate they would never participate in such a brutal sport," Elliot retorted.

"Apparently, my Golden was not the only one who wishes to behave in ungentlemanly ways," Serene said. "They are causing a minor scandal all throughout our lands."

"Vive la révolution. Still wondering why you want to bring me anywhere near a Trigon field, much less expect me to do anything about it."

Serene's eyes narrowed, calculating.

"It pays extremely well," Serene said, pitching her voice so that others would not overhear her.

"Now we're talking," Elliot said. "Would you like to come up, Serene, so we can discuss the terms of my contract in private?"

"No time," Serene said, smiling. "We must leave for the fields immediately."

"Pack up, Luke, let's go," Eliot said, bounding up the stairs.

"Is this a wise idea?" Luke asked quietly. "Elliot hates Trigon. He's constantly complaining about how little sense it makes."

"It is that quality that I hope will be extremely useful," Serene said, smiling.

* * *

Elliot looked out at the tournament Trigon fields before them.

"Two teams."

"Yes."

"Glass ball."

"Good."

"Weird hills."

"Not weird, but yes, they're there."

"Attempt to murder each other viciously according to arcane rules until everyone shouts and points are given."

"…no, violence is a foul, but…you're not wrong."

"Even so, severe likelihood of injury or death?"

"The ball used to be far more solid," Serene cut in. "The Trigon Federation changed it when teams complained they had too many players dying in a season. But if this is supposed to be a war substitute, surely casualties should be expected?"

"The more I learn about this sport, the less I want to participate in it," Elliot said. "Which reminds me. How did you get this gig, Serene? I thought you were elfsona non grata for your scandalous elopement with Golden."

"This is part of how I come back to elf society," Serene said. "If I can accomplish an impossible task, they will see my judgment and abilities are superior and I will be welcomed back with open arms."

"They don't have a clue, do they?" Elliot said.

Luke frowned at Elliot's clear lack of tact.

"My mother's cousin, Swift-Arrows-in-the-Chaos-of-Battle, suggested it." Serene said, staring straight ahead.

"That explains it," Elliott said, snapping his fingers. "Swift's latest letter suggested she had an idea for getting the band back together, but I didn't realize this was it until now."

Luke stared at Elliot blankly.

"Swift's last letter. Remember when she said she was looking forward to hearing from me about resuming my dalliance with Serene?"

Serene turned to stare at Elliot. Had Elliot not spent so much of his life utterly infatuated with Serene, he would have likely been scared by the potentially violent intent in her eyes. As it was, Elliot thought she was cute, proving his self-preservation instincts were still hanging on a peg back at the camp.

Luke swallowed and took a step back.

"I'm fairly certain she didn't mean it in a sexual way," Elliot continued. "She didn't call me your courtesan, although I'm not entirely sure if the concept of "friends with benefits" translates into Elvish."

"Elliot." Serene said.

"Yes?"

"Stop talking."

"Right away."

"Why doesn't that work when I say it?" Luke complained.

"You have to adopt the right tone with a man to tell him that you are serious, or he will continue to behave poorly," Serene said, not taking her eyes off of Elliot. "Some men will heel if you just raise your voice. Others may need convincing before they will respect you."

"Is that the Trigon team?" Luke said, pointing to a group in the distance.

Serene turned. "It is," she said. "Our training may commence."

Elliot leaned over and kissed Luke on the cheek.

"Nice work," he said.

"Thanks," Luke said. "What for?"

"Changing the subject," Elliot said, running his hands discreetly through Luke's wing feathers.

Luke blushed. "Would you please stop doing that in public?"

"Why not? They look beautiful, they feel soft, and if I don't miss my guess, you get a nice thrill out of someone stroking your down."

Luke glared at him. "I think I liked you better when you insulted me at every turn. Knowing you can turn anything into innuendo is creepy."

"If you want to be a loser again, say the word," Elliot said.

Luke shook his head and started walking toward the elvish team, forcing Elliot to both duck and let go of his wings, a feat Elliot managed almost smoothly, only pulling one feather out on his way to rolling down the hill toward the Trigon fields.

* * *

It was obvious to Serene that her choice of two men to be her assistant coaches was paying immediate dividends, as the team listened carefully to Luke talking about Trigon and its strategic complexities, and had Elliot to look at and ask tips on keeping themselves healthy and beautiful for the elf women that would be in attendance. 

It was obvious to Luke the elves' Trigon skills needed a lot of work to get up to the standard of Border camp first-years. He wasn't sure there was enough time to get them to understand most of the basics, much less what they could expect from tournament-level play, but be was enjoying the challenge.

It was obvious to Elliot that while the elves were putting up a tough front, many of them had little idea of the amount of sweat and dirt they were going to accumulate while practicing. He had, more than once, had to console the boys about simple facts of biology: nails regrew, bruises faded, and at least some races of sentient beings considered scars to be signs of manly beauty.

They'd always taken a look at his face and brightened up considerably. Elliot was pretty sure he didn't like the implications, but he also didn't really want to know what they were thinking.

"I'd ask Serene, but she'll get that look on her face and then we'd spend the entire day with her telling me not to worry about it if my tiny male brain couldn't grasp such complex concepts," Elliot explained to Luke at a break.

"She'll do that to me, too," Luke said.

"Yes, but she'll explain it to you first."

"Because she thinks I won't understand."

"That's fine. So long as I can hear her explain it, it won't matter if you understand it or not."

Luke said nothing further on the matter, taking a short run before launching himself into the air again. Elliot watched the flexing of his wings as they helped keep him aloft. His curiosity about how all the muscle groups worked to let Luke fly and gesture and swoop in to give advice took a backseat to admitting to himself, very quietly, that Luke's decision to go shirtless was probably for the best, as it made sure everyone paid attention to him, wherever he was in the field.

Elliot thought he heard a few sighs here and there as he made his way over to Serene, who was attempting to teach a couple of the elves how to pass the ball between themselves. Serene brightened at his approach.

"Elliot, help me, please," she said.

"Sure. What's the problem?"

"Why should we throw the ball between ourselves?" said Beautiful-Hands-Write-Lovely-Poetry. His practice partner, Long-Flowing-Locks-Capture-Women's-Hearts, nodded. "It's heavy."

"So don't," Elliot said. "If you need to pass the ball to someone else, run over to them and drop it in their arms. So long as they're behind you, that should be a legal pass, right?"

Serene blinked. Beautiful-Hands and Long-Locks thought.

"If you want to carry it that far, you totally can," Elliot continued. "Most people I know would complain about how heavy it was and how far they had to go with it, and so they'd learn to throw the ball between themselves, but if you just don't want to, if your conception of masculinity absolutely demands that you never show weakness in any way, I'm sure you can run it over to each other as much as you want. Start by running it to each other across the width of the field, maybe, I dunno, ten times, and then, if you're still not sure, do it ten times the length of the field and see if you still want to do it that way or learn some other way. Serene, can I talk to you for a second?"

Without waiting for an answer, Elliot stated walking toward the pitiful shade provided by the small trees near the edge of the field. 

"Wait," Beautiful-Hands called.

"You heard your coach," Serene said. Elliot thought he detected a note of pride in her voice. "Ten laps, width and length, width first."

Serene joined him in the lack of shade a short time later.

"What was that?" Elliot asked her.

Serene smiled. "I believe it is called discipline. I am not surprised you do not recognize it, considering you never had any as a cadet."

"I don't like it."

"Captain Woodsinger would be proud of you."

Elliot hissed. 

"I'm never doing that again," he said.

"You wanted to talk to me?" Serene prompted.

"What am I doing here?" Elliot asked. "You and Luke could do this without me. He can teach, you can scare them enough that they'll do whatever you say. What am I here for?"

"You are here to look for loopholes," Serene said. "Because there is not enough time to train them properly, we must find every possible way to win. You are the person that can find them."

Elliot turned the idea over in his head before realizing he had already figured one out.

"Elves are the fastest people here that aren't augmented by anatomical advantages, right?" Elliot says, gesturing at Luke.

"Of course," Serene said, almost affronted that Elliot had to ask.

"Good," he said. "Then we're going to be the fastest Trigon relay team the world has seen."

* * *

The improvement was immediate. With an entire part of the game no longer needing to be taught, Luke and Serene seemed much happier about the progress of the team. The elves appreciated the opportunity to do what they did well. There were also far fewer times where Elliot had to console the men about their marriage prospects because of an errant pass, which he considered a great improvement.

When Luke tried to teach the elves about blocking and getting in the way of their opponents, progress came to a halt.

"They might hit us!" Fluttering-Eyelashes-To-Charm-Her nearly shrieked.

"That's a possibility, but if they do, you get the ball," Luke tried to explain. "At least, in theory."

"How will I appear strong and capable to the women if I let someone hurt me. Or worse, if I let them go by me! It'll be embarrassing." Fluttering-Eyelashes said.

"It's part of the game," Luke replied. "Most teams will try at least once to go through you instead of around you. You have to make them believe they can't intimidate you."

"I'm not worried about being intimidated," Beautiful-Hands piped up. "I'm worried that when they're done, no elf maiden will think I'm beautiful enough to be with."

"Ugh, _men_," Serene said, throwing her hands up and walking away. Luke flew after her, leaving all the eyes of the team on Elliot.

Elliot thought about testing what he thought was the first impolite way to swear in Elvish, but remembered he was saving that for Serene's mother, Sure-Aim-In-The-Chaos-of-Battle, if she came to a game and was anything less than exceedingly impressed with her daughter's performance.

Before he had to actually say anything, Luke flew back over.

"Elliot, will you demonstrate for the team that taking a hit isn't the end of everything?"

"No," Elliot said.

"The team will believe you if you bounce back up from it."

"Absolutely not, Luke. You're the kind of person that drops their boyfriend out a window. Why would I give you a reason to actually hurt me?"

"Serene caught you, didn't she? And besides, you've been hit harder than I would for Trigon."

"Still not a good reason. You know I don't like violence in any form, and especially not violence done to me."

The argument would have continued, except at that moment Serene came through, still in an apparent bad mood from the scowl on her face, and gave both of them a glare that suggested no further arguments were happening that day between her assistant coaches.

"Fine," Elliot said, proving that his sense of self-preservation had finally made it to the Trigon field. "Please be gentle."

To his credit, Luke was gentle when he pushed Elliot after a short run. 

The problem was that he was still a Sunborn, and a war-track trained member of the Border Guard, so Elliot still left his feet for a little bit before landing.

"Ow," Elliot said, standing up and wincing a bit. Several of the players surrounded him, asking if he was okay and recommending herbal remedies for the pain.

"It looks worse than it is," Elliot said, and then snapped his fingers as another idea hit him. "Gather round, boys," Elliot called. "Today, we are going to learn the fine art of taking a dive."

* * *

The first game day arrived before either Luke or Serene felt ready for it. Elliot was ready for it all to be done, because the entire team had asked him to braid their hair for their first game together and his fingers were tired. 

"You're kidding," Elliot said, when he saw who was on the other side. "I didn't know trolls played Trigon."

"Only recently," Serene said. "Thanks to a treaty brokered by a council-track Borderguard student with a fascination with mermaids—" 

"—and a flagrant disregard for his own safety—" Luke interjected. 

"—cross-cultural exchange is now possible, and sport appears to be one of the fastest ways to do so."

"…you're proud of me for that, right?" Elliot said. "It sounds like you're proud of me for this."

Serene only smiled and ruffled his hair.

At the ritual greeting between teams, the troll captain smiled. 

"When we crush you, we will do it with the least amount of pressure," he said.

Elliot wasn't completely sure that was the most accurate translation, as most of his exposure to Troll had been in writing, but he felt he understood the gist of the message. He'd been meaning to get some conversation practice in, because there was a new greeting he'd been hoping to get some field data on.

"We hope not to have to grind your children for our food," he said in reply. 

The troll coaches threw their heads back and laughed.

"You must be Schafer," the head coach said.

"Councilor Schafer, thank you. My reputation precedes me?" Elliot asked. 

"Indeed. And your accent is terrible." 

The referee motioned for them to get off the field. 

"Well, if we could, I'd like to schedule some classes when this is done." Elliot said as they headed to their respective coaching boxes.

"First we win the game, then we can talk about you getting schooled." the coach said.

"Troll has puns! I'm delighted to know this," Elliot said as the whistle blew to start the game.

Elliot was fascinated by the opportunity to hear casual (and foul) Troll in action, even though he had to write down what he heard a lot of the time for further study. His Elvish was better, but even long association with the Chaos clan apparently hadn't exposed him to the full creativity of the language. Coming to the Trigon field had greater potential for further diplomatic and linguistic opportunities than he had originally believed.

By halftime, the elves were winning. Serene and Luke were delighted. Elliot was shocked. He had suspected that elves slowed down to be polite to humans when they were together, but he had severely underestimated what the mean ground speed of an elf actually was, laden or unladen. His flippant remark about just handing the ball off between teammates instead of throwing it turned out to be an exceedingly effective strategy, and the speed at which the elves were running around the field made it impossible for him to tell whether or not one of them had actually been hit when they fell to the ground. Horror dawned on Elliot that this performance might earn him a reputation of expertise at this silly game. The second half of the game did nothing to discourage that feeling, as the trolls could not keep up with the elves, though they tried. 

The elves won. And they wanted to celebrate with their favorite redhead coach. Elliot managed not to go out with them by claiming he had to work on coaching things. Luke was waiting for him when he got back to the coach cabins.

"Did you enjoy yourself today?" Luke asked.

"I got so many new examples of swears and curses that it's going to take me months to track down their linguistic origins, so yeah, I did," Elliot said.

"And just think — the more games we win, the more swear words you'll get to hear. But the time we're done, you'll be able to write a book all about all the swear words of the Borderlands."

"Yeah," Elliot said. "I'm thinking of calling it…wait, you're making fun of me, aren't you."

"Only a little," Luke said, smiling. "I saw Mom in the stands today."

"Does that bother you?"

"Yeah," Luke admitted, his wings dropping a little as he sighed. Elliot made a mental note to see if Luke's wings could be induced to betray his emotional state.

"I mean, I knew that Sunborns were adventurous, and that Mom and Dad had an agreement about campaigns, but it's still a lot to imagine why, or even how, Mom managed to…"

Elliot provided a handy and relevant Elvish phrase he had picked up from Serene.

"That."

"I think it's pretty easy to figure out. If all the harpy men look like you, I think more than a few human women would line up to partner with them. Imagine what it would be like to be a thousand feet up and—"

"Elliot."

"Yes?"

"That was a nice compliment. Stop talking."

Elliot hefted a pillow in his hand. "Make me."

"Men," Serene said, choosing to enter the room right before pillow warfare was set to break out. "We have an early game tomorrow. If you are done with your nightly beauty routines, go to bed."

Elliot put his pillow back down and covered himself with the blanket.

"It always works with her," Luke grumbled, before doing the same.

"Mother will be here soon," Serene said, laying on her own bed.

"Sure-Aim is coming?" Luke asked.

"Morning is coming," Serene said. "What did you think I said?"

Luke let the topic drop.

After running through a quick exercise to remember how to enunciate his language so as to be unmistakable when he told Sure-Aim exactly what he thought about her parenting skills, Elliot fell asleep.


End file.
